


Wasting Electricity

by brutallyamish



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Prom has a little tantrum and Gladio is really patient about it, Prompt Fill, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutallyamish/pseuds/brutallyamish
Summary: It's a few years after the return of the light and Prom still has nightmares about waking up in the dark. He likes to have the lights on and when he's teased about it, he reacts a little dramatically.





	Wasting Electricity

**Author's Note:**

> Filled from the [prompt](http://trash-by-vouge.tumblr.com/post/132858041745/the-way-you-said-i-love-you): The way you said “I love you.“ - Muffled, from the other side of the door

The way he said “I love you,” muffled from the other side of the door, was louder than any other sound Prompto had ever heard in his entire life. 

His was a door that was rarely locked, but today it was and it was with the intention of staying that way for as long as possible, even if that was just a handful of hours or a day. Maybe two. Typically, Prompto didn’t have the resolve to follow through with something this undeniably childish, definitely overly dramatic decision because he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He had stopped being a kid over ten years ago when the sun had set and they all feared that it might never rise again. 

Holding on to the hope that one day it might had worn him down because it was so hard to stay positive when everything seemed so bleak. Clinging to the light when there was nothing left but darkness was like trying to hold onto sand. It was only a matter of time until it slipped out between his fingers, blown away by a frigid and unfeeling breeze. But still, Prompto grasped for that light, that hope, obsessively, pulled it close to his chest and carried it like the delicate thing it was. 

Maybe that was how he really survived all those years, lost and very often alone in the bleak and unending night. Prompto lived on stolen light and hope and the fleeting smiles of strangers because he had been separated from the familiar faces and he had to live with that. Promises that it wouldn’t be forever tasted bitter on his tongue, scratched at the back of his throat, but he’d understood why they had to ring so hollow back then. Responsibility and duty pulled them in different directions because the world needed them more than ever. When the whole world waited with baited breath for the return of the King, the one who would free them all and raise the sun again. 

Across the thick carpet, the bright orange of that fiery star cast long shadows as it descended. Sunsets always made him nervous. They were daily reminders of that what he had endured and sometimes, even the promise of the sunrise in the morning couldn’t stop the chill in him or the wave of panic. Prompto had started sleeping with all the lights on because he couldn’t wake up in the dark anymore, he just _couldn’t_. 

All the lights were on now. _Wasting electricity_. 

That was why the door was closed, and why it was locked. 

It hadn’t even been said in malice or annoyance, just as a teasing comment, but it had struck him the wrong way and he had wordlessly gotten up from the table and retreated to his room. With the door locked behind him. 

Prompto had only been alone in the silence for all of twenty minutes before the sound of heavy footsteps on the floor below alerted him to the distress of his partner. Gladio had the tendency to pace, a habit that only seemed to get worse as he got older. From where he’d sat himself on the carpet, Prom could hear the sounds of Gladio’s pacing and he could almost feel what the man was thinking by the agitated way he moved back and forth on the hardwood in the hallway that opened up into the staircase. It was guilt and just a little bit of self-blame, and the need to be closer while still giving Prompto the space he’d clearly wanted when he walked away and didn’t come back. 

The pacing stopped after forty minutes, but not because Gladio had given up. The pacing had stopped because he’d finally climbed the stairs and stationed himself outside of the door like a sentry, waiting silently. Gladio hadn’t tried the doorknob, hadn’t tried to force his way into Prom’s quiet little haven where he continued to pout as he twisted the ring on his finger. Though it was hard for him to hide his presence, it wasn’t invasive and Prompto appreciated that in the part of himself that wanted to open up the door. It was the part of him that wanted to keep it closed that kept him glued to the floor where he sat, surrounded by photo albums he had dragged off the bookshelves, all of them cracked open. 

Three words ended the silence that hung between them after sixty minutes had passed, three words quietly spoken through the door. It felt as if they were spoken right into his very soul, with a conviction that filled his chest with the same butterflies that had settled there years and years ago when he’d first heard those words spoken to him. 

Taking a handful of minutes to pull himself together, Prompto picked himself up off the floor, feeling the ache in his joints from sitting for so long, not so subtly reminded that he wasn’t twenty-something anymore. He was covered in scars now and they mixed with his freckles to write his history on his skin, a history that Gladio could read just like he did those novels he still spent hours pouring over on quiet Sunday afternoons. Prompto could read all the chapters on Gladio’s body too, proficient in it, and though he’d long since memorized it all, he refreshed his memory often, taking a small eternity to study it all with his eyes and his fingers and his mouth. 

In the quiet, the sound of the lock clicking out of place echoed. The metal was cold in Prompto’s hand as he gripped it but the chill of it was immediately replaced by the warmth of those large hands once he pulled the door open. Prompto let out a small laugh despite himself when both of his hands were claimed, fingers laced with Gladio’s rough, calloused ones that he knew so well. That laugh was cut off by a gentle kiss that deepened slowly at it robbed the air from Prom’s lungs, made him sway on his feet a little. 

That was when he was swept completely off of them, carried off through a house with every light on and cradled tightly as the sun finally set over the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted on my [tumblr](http://aftercheckmate.tumblr.com/), come hang out with me i spam a lot


End file.
